Scarred
Ding-dong.
"Hermione, dear, I'm cooking. Could you get that?"
"No problem, Mum." Hermione dashed through the sitting room to the front door and flung it open, and then she gasped a little and said, "Harry."
Harry Potter gestured to the foyer of her parents' house, and as Hermione stepped aside, her mother called from the kitchen,
"Who is it, Hermione?"
"It's my friend Harry," Hermione called back. "We're… erm… going to go talk upstairs."
She led Harry silently up the staircase, and from behind her, he noted,
"This is a nice place you got them. I'm sure they're glad to be back."
"I'm glad to have them back," Hermione said. She led Harry into her bedroom, a sunny space with white and pale blue furnishings, and she sat on the edge of the bed beside him. Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and said,
"Ron gave me the address. He didn't want to come."
"I'm not surprised." Hermione pinched her lips. "The last time I saw him, he treated me like some sort of traitor. He doesn't understand, Harry."
Harry sighed deeply and touched his fingertips to his forehead. Finally he said,
"Hermione, Ron and I are training to be Aurors. Our job will be to apprehend and help punish Dark witches and wizards. That's going to include a whole lot of them who were our enemies in the war."
"I know," Hermione conceded, "but think of Snape. Think of Regulus Black. How many times has someone gone down the wrong path and then realised they made bad choices? What sort of people are we if we refuse, under any circumstances, to forgive?"
"Would you forgive Bellatrix Lestrange?" Harry demanded, and Hermione scoffed.
"No, and Ron asked me the same thing. Draco was pulled into all this, by his bloodline and by his upbringing. You know that. He is sorry. He is."
"How can you be sure?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses, and Hermione admitted,
"We've had many conversations now, Draco and I."
"Oh, you have, have you?" Harry let out a bitter laugh. "Going to go on a nice dinner date and discuss Dumbledore over oysters, are you?"
"Harry." Hermione shut her eyes, and there was a very heavy silence. When she opened her eyes again, Harry was shaking his head.
"Tell me you haven't… tell me you're not…"
"I have no idea what exists between Draco and me right now," Hermione said honestly, "but I forgive him, and he is going to help me work toward a movement of reconciliation. I don't have logistics worked out yet. I don't know how we're meant to tell who's really sorry and who wants to escape punishment. I'll figure it all out. I will, with Draco's help. I'd like your help, too, and Ron's and Ginny's and Luna's and Neville's."
Harry shook his head. "Neville Longbottom had his childhood completely destroyed by Death Eaters."
"So did you," Hermione pointed out. Harry tipped his head and said seriously,
"You're going to be very alone in this crusade, at least at the beginning. If it'll help you, I'll do an interview with the Prophet or something where I make a statement that all genuinely repentant witches and wizards - at least the ones who didn't commit unforgivable crimes - should be given the chance to establish more friendly… oh, Hermione… I can't say any of that whilst I'm in Auror training, and you know it."
He threw his hands up, and Hermione nibbled her bottom lip. Her eyes watered a little, and she shrugged.
"Maybe we all just need a little more time."
"Yeah. It's barely been a year," Harry pointed out. "Why don't you focus on Squibs and House-Elves for now? Build up a reputation as someone who fights for justice in the Ministry? Give it all a little time. Wounds are still fresh. Maybe in a year or two, people will be ready to listen."
"I hope so." Hermione threw her arms around Harry then, and she asked him quietly, "Does Ron hate me?"
"No." Harry pulled back and shook his head. "No. He feels betrayed by the fact that you'd actually talk to Draco Malfoy."
"Talk." Hermione shut her eyes and remembered the feel of Draco's cock in her hand, of his wand setting a climax on her, of his mouth crushing hers. Harry's voice shook a little then as he asked,
"What have you done with him?"
"It doesn't matter," Hermione insisted, but Harry's eyebrows flew up and he countered,
"I think it matters a lot. But you'll have to live with whatever decisions you make when it comes to Draco Malfoy, Hermione. As far as I'm concerned, he's a slimy piece of dragon dung who went out of his way to make all our lives miserable. If he's sorry, great. Good. He should be."
Hermione sucked in a breath and asked, "Are you still my friend?"
Harry looked almost hurt then, and he reached to tuck Hermione's hair behind her ear.
"I'll always be your friend."
"Hello."
"Hi." Hermione stared at Draco, knowing at once that she'd awakened him. He had on a flannel robe of dark grey, along with black flannel pyjama trousers, and very evidently no shirt beneath. His normally neat hair was a complete mess, and his eyes were bleary. Well, Hermione thought, this was what she got for coming to his house at two in the morning.
"Erm… come on in." Draco let her in and shut the door, turning the deadbolt. He rubbed at his eyes and asked in a drowsy voice, "Can I… help you?"
"I need to show you something." Hermione yanked back the sleeve of the turtleneck jumper she wore. She shoved her arm toward Draco, and she watched his face fall as he made out the pale pinkish outline of what Bellatrix Lestrange had done to her. Mudblood.
"Now you show me yours," Hermione ordered him. Draco hesitated but finally pulled back the sleeve of his flannel robe, revealing the faint outline of the Dark Mark that had been dormant since Voldemort's death. Hermione's eyes burned, and she noted,
"We're both scarred, you and I. Scarred and banged up from the war, aren't we?"
He hesitated and then said, "I realise it's not at all the same thing to have taken the Dark Mark and to have been… branded… the way you were. It isn't the same, and I know it."
"Scars are scars," Hermione said simply. "Harry's scarred because he survived Voldemort's Killing Curse. George Weasley got his ear sliced off when Snape was trying to keep his cover as a double agent. Neville Longbottom got scarred up by the Carrows. You'll wear the mark of evil on your arm forever, and I've got the worst word in the wizarding world tattooed on me. None of us escaped unscathed, did we? Not really."
Draco sighed and stepped closer to Hermione, snaring his arms around her. He tipped his head to the side a little and admitted,
"Before the doorbell rang, I dreamed that you were reading a book."
"That is a very realistic dream," Hermione said, but Draco rolled his eyes. He said,
"War and Peace. The book was called War and Peace."
"That's a real book," Hermione informed him. "It's by a Muggle author, a Russian called Tolstoy. I haven't actually read it… not the whole thing. What an embarrassing thing to admit. I know the story."
"In my dream," Draco said, "you were wearing white robes, and you were at a white desk, and there was blinding sunlight streaming through the window. And there was a little ball of black darkness hovering over your shoulder, and you were reading War and Peace."
Hermione stroked at his face and shrugged. "I shall have to make time to read it, I suppose."
They stared at one another for a very long time, then, and finally Draco asked, "Will you come upstairs?"
Hermione nodded, and Draco laced his fingers through hers and led her up his wooden stairs with the carpeted runner. She followed him, her heart beating like a war drum and her stomach tying itself into knots. They walked into a small bedroom, not cramped but hardly spacious, with a simple bed, a mahogany frame and a cream-coloured quilt. The walls were a very neutral light brown, and the place felt peaceful. Hermione looked around, noticing the rumpled blankets and sheets, and she said,
"I'm sorry I woke you."
"I don't mind." Draco looked rather awkward then. He opened his mouth, shut it, and his cheeks went a little pink. Hermione suddenly blurted out,
"Everyone says it hurts the first time."
"The… you mean…" Draco trailed off. He looked away, staring at the wall, and he mumbled, "I was going to do it with Pansy, but I just didn't want it. She was obnoxious."
Hermione snorted and stepped closer to him. Her hands went to the tie on his robe, a question in her eyes.
"Am I obnoxious?" she asked, and when Draco raised his eyebrows, she smiled a little and said, "Don't answer that."
"Why did you come here in the middle of the night?" Draco asked, pulling a little at the hem of her jumper. Hermione answered as honestly as she could.
"I was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wishing I hadn't drunk so much wine the other night, because I realised I wanted more than what happened. I don't know why. I wish I knew why I wanted you so badly; maybe I could stop wanting you."
"I don't want to stop," Draco said, and he pulled her jumper up and over her head. She gasped a little at the feeling of standing there before him in just her bra, but she let him drop the jumper and stare at her chest for a moment. She felt her nipples peak, felt her skin tighten up as he stared at her, and she informed him crisply,
"I've taken an annual contraceptive potion every year since I was sixteen. Just in case, you know?"
"Oh. That's good." Draco nodded and just kept staring. He reached out with a very tentative hand, his thumb grazing over Hermione's hardened nipple. His throat bobbed, and he asked, "Can I take it off?"
Hermione reached around her back and unclasped the bra, letting slide off her front and drop off her arms. She wasn't sure then whether to be ashamed or proud of her breasts. They were small, but they were round and perky, and so she wasn't sure all in all what he'd think of them. Draco's knuckles brushed along the curve, over the top and down around the bottom of one breast, and then his fingers squeezed very slowly. He made a little sound of want, a grunt of desire, and Hermione found herself shoving down the loose drawstring trousers she'd worn over here. She kicked off her trainers and slid her socks off, tossing her knickers aside, and then she said matter-of-factly,
"Here. I'm naked now."
"I see that," Draco nodded. He looked utterly terrified, which almost amused Hermione. She untied his flannel robe and pushed it off of him, very surprised by the definition in his chest and arms. He'd always looked skinny under his clothes, but he was sinewy and muscled. He was lean, to be certain, but there were curves and lines to his abdomen and chest and shoulders. Hermione shivered a little and told him,
"I suppose I'd always thought you'd spent the last few years at Hogwarts shagging every Slytherin girl in sight."
"I didn't want any of them," Draco said simply, "and, anyway, I was… busy."
"Oh. Yes." Hermione huffed a breath, glancing at the dormant Dark Mark on his left forearm and the barely visible word Mudblood on her own arm. She glanced back and forth between the scars and then raised her eyes to him.
"You will be a better man than the ones who came before you. People died. So many people died for all of this, but we can live for what comes next, can't we?"
He just nodded, pushing his pyjama trousers down until his cock sprang out. He swallowed hard again and whispered,
"I'm going to make it up to you. The mean things I said; I'm going to make it up to. Not all in one night, I know, but I will. Somehow."
"Just kiss me." Hermione said firmly. "For now, just kiss me."
He did, his cock jabbing against Hermione's stomach as he moved closer. He started to walk them over to the bed, his lips dragging along Hermione's as they moved. She urged him to deepen the kiss, not caring at all that he tasted like sleep. She sucked his lip between her teeth and bit down a little, and then Draco shoved her onto the bed.
"Don't tease me like that," he scolded her, and Hermione laughed a little.
"What, you don't like to be teased?" She scraped her fingernails very gently down his chest and felt him shudder. His eyes wrenched shut when she reached down and dragged the pad of her thumb over the tip of his cock. He hovered above her and said through clenched teeth,
"No, it's… I quite like it. Too much. Stop, stop, or this is going to last two minutes."
Hermione stifled her smile and pulled her hand from him. She stared up at him, and his blue eyes flashed. He bent down then and touched his lips just below her ear, pushing her curls aside. Hermione sighed; that skin was more sensitive than she'd realised. Ron had never spent much time kissing here here. Ron had never kissed her the way Draco was doing now - lathing his tongue from her shoulder to her ear, suckling there and then planting soft kisses with his lips.
"Draco." Hermione had never imagined that she'd be whispering his name with her fingers burrowed in his blond hair, but here they were. She was sopping wet between her legs now, and there was a throbbing ache, a need. She reached between them and parted her legs, pulling her knees up toward her chest and aiming Draco's tip at her unpractised entrance.
"Do it," she whispered, and he kissed her neck harder, groaning rather loudly. He pushed in just a little, and Hermione cried so loudly that Draco yanked his face away. He stared at her, worried, bracing himself on his shaking arms as he studied the pain on her face. Hermione shook her head wildly, ignoring the burning and stretching as she insisted,
"It'll pass."
"You're beautiful," Draco said suddenly, and Hermione felt her mouth fall open. Her fingers cinched on the sheets, and she found herself in the unusual position of having nothing of note to say. Draco pushed his hips forward a little, and Hermione whimpered in pain but tried to make her body welcome him. He pulled back and pushed forward a little more, and she said honestly,
"Not so bad anymore."
"You are very, very beautiful," Draco said, more emphatically this time. He started to move his hips steadily, cycling them in a fluid rhythm as Hermione's body accepted the push and pull. It started to feel good, so, so good. He bent down and used one hand to carefully massage a breast as his lips went beside her ear. "I was so wrong about you for so long. You're brilliant. Bloody brilliant, Hermione, and you… you're brave, and you're strong, and you are very beautiful, and… oh."
"Draco." She put her palms flat against his back, and she watched him reach for his wand off the bedside table. She was curious about what he was doing until he muttered,
"I've got thirty seconds, and I won't have you… not… mmph… Gaudens Maxima."
Hermione was hit suddenly by the force of the climax he'd inflicted on her, just like the way he'd done in his kitchen. At least, she thought, he cared that she finished. She could guess that many wizards wouldn't care. There had been many times where she'd used her hand on Ron and he'd finished just fine without Hermione feeling more than a little twinge of arousal. But this, this, was bliss. She was clenching around him, whining his name, digging her fingernails into his back a little.
His breath quickened into huffing pants beside her ear, and then he touched his lips to her cheek and let out a low groan of satisfaction. Her own white-hot climax must have driven him over the edge, Hermione thought. She could feel him twitching inside of her, an odd sensation. Then she felt his come leaking out of her, streaming down her thigh whilst he was still inside of her. This was all profoundly messy, she thought.
He stayed inside of her for a very long time, catching his breath and kissing Hermione's lips gently. She thought distantly that they were more scarred than ever now, two enemies lying in bed with their naked bodies tangled up.
"I'm not sorry," she whispered, and Draco shook his head as he finally pulled out of her and lay beside her on the sheets.
"Neither am I."
Hermione reached for her own wand and cast some Scouring and Siphoning spells on the messy sheets and their bodies. She ought not be embarrassed to see her blood or his seed on the bed, she thought. Sex was perfectly natural. But then she thought of what Ginny would say, what Ron and Harry would say.
"I'm not sorry," she whispered again, laying her wand down and feeling Draco pull the quilt up around them.
"We both have to work in a few hours," he reminded her. "Might be smart to get a little sleep."
"Is that your way of asking me to stay?" Hermione turned her face to look at him. Draco just stared back, his eyes seeming more pale than ever in the moonlight. He finally nodded once, and Hermione noted, "I'll have to Transfigure my clothes for work."
"I think you're capable of doing that," Draco said softly. Hermione reached for his hand, rolling a little toward him. She laced the fingers of her left hand through the fingers of his left hand. The Dark Mark. Mudblood. Scars they'd bear forever. And now she'd given herself to him, and he'd given himself to her, and even Harry had told her that it would be a good long while before her movement for reconciliation could take hold.
It was only them.
It was just her and Draco, the two of them bound by forgiveness instead of separated by hatred. She examined the way his blond hair fell in front of his blue eyes, the way his lips were parted just so, and she asked,
"Do you ever hear a whisper that makes you want to go back to it? To the Darkness you've abandoned?"
"No," he said immediately. Then, appearing to want very badly to change the subject, he said, "I've never been to a Muggle cinema, and I'd like to go. There's something called The Sixth Sense. It's about a little boy who sees dead people, apparently."
Hermione frowned. "After the work you do all day, you want to go see a Muggle film about a boy who sees dead people?"
Draco's bottom lip stuck out a little, and he finally said, "There's something called The Astronaut's Wife. An astronaut is someone who -"
"I know what an astronaut is," Hermione laughed. She nodded. "Right. This weekend, we'll go to a Muggle cinema and watch The Astronaut's Wife and eat loads of popcorn, and then we'll come home and have a contest to see who can Conjure the best."
He smirked at her and said, "Yeah. Sounds good. Night, Hermione."
He didn't turn away. He just shut his eyes, tightening his grip on her hand a little. Hermione shut her eyes, too, and she whispered,
"I'm glad you've finally agreed to be my friend."
There was a long pause, and he murmured back, "So am I, Granger."
Author's Note: Awwwww. They did it! LOL. But even Harry's not fully on board with Hermione's grand plans for societal reconciliation. Is there any way for her to extrapolate this system of forgiveness beyond her illicit relationship with Draco? Can they ever be public in any way? And what about DATE NIGHT? Ha. Thank you so much for reading, and to those who have reviewed, I grant fifty points to your House and a Chocolate Frog with a really rare card inside. :)